“You will have to move swiftly. Cadarn will not be easy to sway, and you may not convince him. You know he will not acknowledge our world of magic,” the prince reminded her.

“Then you must come with me and convince him that it does exist,” Lara said.

He nodded in agreement.

“I will come, too,” Ilona said. “We must dazzle this foolish mortal publicly so he is unable to deny the evidence of his own eyes.”

Lara laughed. “Whenever I made magic,” she said, “that is just what he did. He would declare the air poisoned, or the cheese bad.”

“Not this time,” Kaliq said. Lara was wrong, but he would aid her to the best of his ability until she could admit it. “You must look the part,” he told her. Make this faerie woman fair so no one can deny her there.

And Lara found herself clothed in a beautiful bejeweled robe of cloth-of-gold. Her long gilt hair was braided with thin plaits intertwined with delicate gold and silver chains filled with tiny sparkling gemstones and pearls. About her forehead was a narrow gold band, an oval emerald in its center. Ilona waved a languid hand, and a pair of iridescent wings sprouted from Lara’s shoulder blades.

Lara chuckled. “Why, Mother, you never gave me wings before,” she said.

“Mortals have certain ideas,” Ilona told her drily. “Today we will cater to them.”

And a pair of pearlescent wings popped from her back. She was garbed in a royal-purple and cloth-of-gold silk gown, her gold crown of office upon her golden head.

Kaliq had transformed himself into his all-white trousers and bejeweled white tunic. Upon his dark head he wore a small turban, a bloodred ruby and three plumes at its center. A small gold dagger, its hilt decorated with diamonds was stuck into his wide sash. A white satin cloak lined in cloth-of-gold floated out of the air, fastening itself onto broad shoulders. His dark leather boots rose to his knees. “I think we are all ready now,” he said. He nodded to an attending servant, who brought a reflecting bowl to his master. Kaliq gazed into it and then said, “They are in the Great Hall of the Dominus’s castle, celebrating Cadarn’s birthday. Ilona, will you go first?”

“Of course, my lord,” the Queen of the Forest Faeries said with an arch smile.

THE RAFTERS OF DOMINUS Cadarn’s Great Hall shook with the clap of thunder as Ilona appeared in their midst. “Greetings, kinsman,” Ilona said.

A second clap followed the first, and Lara appeared. “Cadarn,” she said.

And finally Kaliq stepped from what appeared to be thin air. “My lord.” He bowed, flourishing his cape as he did so.

The silence was palpable. Those in attendance to celebrate the Dominus Cadarn’s birthday stood with open mouths. What they were seeing could not possibly be. Surely this was some entertainment. But there were a few in the hall who still believed in magic, and for them what was happening was marvelous. They recognized the magical trio, and were excited to learn why they were here and what was to come.

“How do you explain us away, my lord Dominus?” Kaliq asked Cadarn. “Is the air poisoned? Then open the windows and doors here, but we will still remain. Perhaps it is something you all ate this evening? Even if you purge yourselves we will remain before you. Deny the evidence of your own eyes, Cadarn, son of Amhar, grandson of Taj, great-grandson of Magnus Hauk. Look at us, and say we do not exist,” Kaliq said in a deep and commanding voice that boomed about the silent chamber.

“Who are you?” the Dominus asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“I am Prince Kaliq of the Shadows,” came the answer. He drew Ilona forward. “And this is your great-great-grandmother, Ilona, Queen of the Forest Faeries. You know your great-grandmother, Domina Lara, widow of Magnus Hauk.”

“It is not possible,” Cadarn said low. He had been relieved when Lara departed Terah. He could now relegate her to history and legend. But here she stood before him with her two companions, and he was finding it difficult to say they did not exist.

“Reach your hand out, mortal, and touch us,” Kaliq said. “We are real. It is time you admitted to it. We come to help you, for the darkness is threatening once again.”

Cadarn kept his hand by his side. “We need no help,” he said icily.

“That I should ever live to see a Dominus of Terah not just stubborn, but stupid, as well,” Lara said to him. “Magic exists, you lumpish fool! And while you look the other way, Hetar and the Dark Lands are making an alliance against you. The Twilight Lord will wed a Hetarian noblewoman. The Lord High Ruler makes that girl’s cousin his second wife. If you are to survive this disastrous union, your son, Vaclar, must wed Yamka, granddaughter of the great Hetarian magnate, Grugyn Ahasferus.”

“Vaclar will marry a proper Terahn wife,” Cadarn said.

“Do you not understand, Cadarn,” Lara said to him. “Hetar and the Dark Lands will take Terah into their keeping. You, and all of your people will be enslaved. The darkness threatens Terah!”

Prince Vaclar stepped forward. He bowed to the uninvited guests. “There is yet no betrothal made on my behalf,” he said to his father. “If what the Domina Lara says is true then it would behoove us to take her advice, my lord father.”

“These creatures before us do not, cannot exist, Vaclar. Your imagination has been triggered by something in the air.”

Lara’s hand flashed out, and she slapped the Dominus Cadarn’s face. The sound of the blow echoed throughout the hall.

His hand flew to his cheek, and then Cadarn shouted, “Arrest this woman! She has struck the Dominus a blow.”

“If I do not exist, Cadarn, then I cannot have struck you,” Lara said quietly. “Nor should you have felt the blow, nor should the imprint of my fingers be upon your face, but it seems to be.” A small looking glass appeared in her hand. “See?” she said.

He peered into the mirror. Her mark was clear upon his cheek.

Prince Vaclar snickered just slightly.

The Dominus Cadarn sent him a dark look. “I am willing to acknowledge that you exist,” he said to the trio before him. “But you are certainly an anomaly from a time past that now haunts this hall.”

Prince Kaliq laughed aloud. “We have indeed visited this hall in times past, my lord Dominus, but we are no ghosts.” He held out his hand. “Take it, and see that I am flesh and bone, even as you are. The Domina Lara seeks to help you, Cadarn of Terah. She has always acted in Terah’s best interests. She returns now to do so.”

“Is she pretty?” the Terahn prince asked. “This Hetarian maiden.”

“I have not seen her,” Lara answered truthfully.

“Who is she then that you would have me wed her?”

“Her grandfather is the most wealthy and influential man in Hetar,” Lara explained. “Grugyn Ahasferus has three granddaughters. One will wed the Twilight Lord. Another will become the second wife of Hetar’s Lord High Ruler. If Terah is not to be left out, you must wed the third. Hetar, Terah and the Dark Lands will then all be linked by a blood tie. It is vital to Terah’s survival that this link be forged.”

“I will do it then,” Prince Vaclar said.

“You do not have my permission to make a marriage,” the Dominus Cadarn said.

“And when you wed it will be to a good Terahn maiden.”

“Were you not listening, my lord father? Would you permit Hetar to gain this advantage over us? When two are linked, the third is likely to be the object of their scorn,” Prince Vaclar told his father. He turned to Lara. “The girl has a rich dower?”

Lara smiled. “She certainly will, but you will have to convince her grandfather that you are the man for her. Your great-uncle Amren will know more than I do.”

“I can’t have my heir living in Hetar,” the Dominus Cadarn spoke up.

“He will return home from Hetar with his bride,” Lara said.

“She must become Terahn in her ways,” the Dominus continued.

“She will. Hetarian wives are most obedient, my lord,” Lara murmured.

“How will you accomplish this marriage?” Cadarn asked.

“Your son will come with us,” Ilona spoke up. “Your brother and your uncle will certainly have invitations to the Lord High Ruler’s wedding. They will bring Terah’s heir with them as his father’s personal representative. Palben will be quite pleased by this. You are kin, after all, even if you have forgotten it.”

“We are kin to Palben? How?” the Dominus inquired.

“His grandmother, Princess Zagiri of Terah, and your grandfather, the Dominus Taj, were brother and sister,” Ilona explained. “How can you be so ignorant of your own history, Cadarn of Terah?” She sniffed dismissively.

About them the Terahn court watched and listened, fascinated. With their Dominus and his heir in conversation with these unusual beings, Cadarn would have a difficult time denying the existence of magic in the future. But those who knew him best understood that he probably would. Cadarn did not like being proven wrong.

“His garments are all wrong,” Ilona said, staring at Vaclar. “He is not royal enough.” She waved her hand over the Terahn prince, and he was suddenly garbed in dark blue velvet embroidered with gold. “What do you think?” she asked Kaliq and Lara.

There was an audible gasp from the Terahns.

“Too severe,” Lara said, looking to Kaliq. “Don’t you think so, my love? He is young, and passably fair. He must appear distinguished and wealthy without any sign of ostentation. What do you think of this?” She waved her hand at Vaclar, and the dark blue became a lightly bejeweled sky-blue velvet tunic that reach below his knees. The sleeves and hem of the garment were trimmed in pale fur. Beneath it he wore cream-colored stockings embroidered in gold. “He has Magnus’s coloring, and I think these colors suit him better. The girl will fall in love with him on sight,” Lara said with a smile.

“And her grandfather will immediately appreciate the quality of his garments, which indicate a man of taste and wealth,” Kaliq noted.

“His hair needs a little bit of a wave to it,” Ilona said. She ran her hand over Vaclar’s dark gold head, and it grew wavy, one small curl escaping to fall over his forehead. It was very flattering. The Queen of the Forest Faeries looked the young man over from head to toe. “He needs silver buckles on his shoes,” she said, and put them there. “And a short velvet cape.” It appeared on his shoulders. “There! He is ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?” Cadarn asked nervously.

“The sun is rising over The City now,” Lara said to him. “We are taking Vaclar to the wedding of his kinsman, the Lord High Ruler Palben II, my lord.”

“Are you mad?” Cadarn now shouted. “Look outside the windows of this hall. It is night, not daybreak.”

Ilona shook her head wearily. “How can he be so ignorant?” she asked her companions. “Magnus wasn’t ignorant at all.”

“Terah has fallen back into its old ways,” Lara replied. “Do you think Vaclar needs a chain and pendant, Mother?”

Ilona looked at the Terahn prince with a critical eye. “Aye, I think you are right, darling.” Chain appear upon his chest so this prince will look his best.

“Oh, that’s much better,” Lara said as the heavy gold chain with its jeweled pendant appeared about the prince’s neck, falling upon his doublet.

The Dominus was staring, bug-eyed.

Kaliq stepped next to him. “Hetar and Terah occupy the same world, my lord, but each is on a different side of that world. Consequently when it is day in Hetar it is night here in Terah. Our sun can but light one half of our world at a time.”

Cadarn nodded slowly as he struggled to digest the Shadow Prince’s words. “Then how will you reach The City in time for the festivities?” he ventured softly to Kaliq.

“We will use our magic,” the Shadow Prince said quietly. “Do not fear, my lord. We will return your son to you safely in several days’ time.” Then, flourishing his cape to enclose Lara, Ilona and the young Terahn prince, he took them to the beautiful mansion in the Golden District of The City where Prince Amren had lived with his Hetarian wife for many years.

AMREN’S WIFE, CLARINDA, shrieked with surprise as the quartet appeared in the hall as they were seated breaking their fast.

Terah’s former ambassador arose from his High Board and hurried to greet the unexpected guests. “Grandmother, welcome to my home,” he said, taking her hands in his and kissing them.

“He has manners,” Ilona said, looking Amren up and down. In his youth he would have been a handsome young man, she thought. Now she found him distinguished.

“This is your great-grandmother, Queen Ilona.” Lara introduced her mother. “This is Taj’s younger son, Mother.”

Amren took up Ilona’s hands to kiss. “I thought she was your sister, Grandmother,” he said, giving Ilona a winning smile.